


(Bassists) Do It Deeper

by gaypilots (tofallinlovewithafridge)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bassist Sam Winchester, Bottom Gabriel, Couch Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofallinlovewithafridge/pseuds/gaypilots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's a big guy, a great bassist, and an even better lay. Gabriel finds all this out in the space of a few hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Bassists) Do It Deeper

**Author's Note:**

> Because playing bass is sexy, bassists are underrepresented, and Sam has just the right size hands to be able to play really easily.

 He's not gonna lie; the kid's good.

 

But, Gabriel guesses, you could tell just by looking at him that he's built for playing bass, with his tall frame, wide shoulders, and huge hands. And so what if Gabe's checking out the bassist a little? Who could blame him, with jeans like that?

 

They're not too bad, actually, the band, although he's pretty sure that the reason he's liking their music is mostly down to the bassist's ass, and the way that sweat begins to bead against his skin, neck exposed at the collar of his shirt. His hair hangs over his face, obscuring all but his mouth, which is hanging open and looking hot as sin.

 

Gabriel sips his drink, tapping his foot against the barstool and twisting to watch.

 

Damn. He knows where he wants that mouth.

 

The band's next song is hard, driving, and Gabriel's damned if he doesn't check out the guy's fingers as he picks, trying really hard not to imagine them in him, and checking out his other hand flying up and down the frets, and honestly trying not to imagine that hand on him, because just _think_ of the coordination he must have.

 

Gabriel kind of wants to meet the man- and by meet, he means 'get fingered and possibly fucked by'- but he's honestly pretty sure that if he actually sees him, up close, he won't be able to form any kind of coherent sentence.

 

Fifteen minutes into their set, the bassist grabs a bottle of water from the floor, tipping his head back to drink. Gabriel's finishing his second beer and is about to order something a lot stronger until he's distracted somewhat by that neck. Gabriel's eyebrows raise. He orders a scotch.

 

* * *

 

There's an interval, halfway through, and Gabriel decides that's probably a good time to go take a piss.

 

He ducks into the toilets- which are deserted, because everyone else is getting drinks. The venue's kind of small, capacity two hundred maximum, and there must only be about a hundred and ten here. He stands in front of a urinal, unzips, and doesn't look round when the door opens and shuts again.

 

The guy next to him is fucking huge, and Gabriel suddenly feels incredibly inadequate, in every way. He finishes up, not looking up as he goes to wash his hands. It's when the behemoth of a man zips up that Gabriel dares to look around.

 

It takes him a couple seconds to compose himself.

 

“Hey,” he says brightly, “you're the bassist!”

  
The dude laughs, washing his hands. “Yeah. I'm Sam.” He pats his hand dry on his jeans, offering it to Gabriel.

 

“Gabriel,” the shorter man says, looking up a little and grinning. “I tell you what, you're pretty talented.”

 

Sam brushes his hair out of his eyes, an unbelievable, _undefinable_ mixture of colours. Gabriel notices his nose, and wonders what it would feel like bumping up against his stomach as Sam swallows around him.

 

“Thanks,” Sam says, laughing. “But it's not talent, I just have nothing better to do than play bass all the time.”

 

Gabriel laughs, not quite sober enough to hide the way his gaze is roaming. “You're quite something,” he says, catching sight of large hands and calloused fingers, picturing Sam grabbing his hips and bending him over the sink, watching Sam's face as the man thrust into him-

 

Sam's hair has fallen back into his eyes, and he's crowding into Gabriel's space now. Gabriel refuses to back up, even though he has to crane his neck to look Sam in the eye.

 

“Do you watch every band you see as attentively as you watch us?” Sam asks, and Gabriel can feel the heat radiating from his body.

 

“No,” Gabriel says, “but not every band is as good as you.”

  
Sam sighs. “What I mean is,” he leans in, closer to Gabriel. Gabriel tilts his chin up. “Do you check out everyone as blatantly as you check out me?”

 

“No,” Gabriel repeats. “Consider yourself special, kiddo.”

 

Sam pulls away. “So, at the end of our set, I'll see you outside?”

 

“What's for me outside?”

  
Sam bends down, leans in so he's whispering directly into Gabriel's ear. “Me.”

  
He pulls away enough that Gabriel can see his eyes, sparkling and challenging at once.

 

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “See you there.”

 

* * *

 

Gabriel hangs around indoors at the end, milling around as people start saying their goodbyes. The band are still backstage, although Gabriel knows the quickest way out of this place is through the main entrance. He gets another drink, a Pepsi Max or something, and waits by the bar for Sam to head out.

 

He's not hard to miss as he scuttles across the room, ducking his head to fit through doorways. Someone tries to talk to him, and he smiles and says he's got to take a few minutes, have a smoke, and they're welcome to join him.

 

They don't, thank God, and Gabriel finishes his drink to head out as well. It's fucking cold out, middle of February, but it's refreshing after the heat of the venue. He finds Sam with his back to a wall around the side of the building, his face lit only by the glowing end of a cigarette.

 

Sam wordlessly offers Gabriel one, and Gabriel takes it, putting it in his mouth and reaching for his lighter when Sam's hand is in front of his face, deftly lighting Gabriel's cigarette with his own lighter and a flick of his thumb. They each take a moment in silence to look across the parking lot.

 

“I thought it was custom to have the cigarette after the sex, not before.” Gabriel says.

 

Sam huffs out a laugh, then takes a drag. He lets the smoke go, curling around and between them. “No-one said anything about sex,” he said. “I might just stab you through the heart and burn your body.”

 

“Eh,” Gabriel says. “Whatever you're into.”

 

Gabriel can see Sam's teeth when he grins, wants to lick his way into that mouth.

 

“Dean'll have my ass if I leave without helping to clean up,” Sam says, pushing himself away from the wall as Gabriel takes another drag. He looks Gabriel up and down. “But hey, serves him right for going and fucking Cas in the dressing room when he's meant to be helping with the drumkit.”

  
Gabriel doesn't know how to respond, just makes an educated guess that Dean and Cas are the other two guys in the band. Sam leans in again, something which is actually unbelievably sexy, and tells him to wait there, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall as he does so.

 

Gabriel grinds the butt of the cigarette on the ground, and can't help but hear Sam yelling from the doorway of the venue.

 

“Dean, I'm gonna go get laid!”

 

“Like hell you are,” Dean (presumably) replies.

 

“Just get your dick out of Cas' ass and I'll see you at home tomorrow, yeah?”

  
Dean yells something garbled, but Sam's running out and grinning. “Come on, come on,” he urges Gabriel, encouraging him to run after him. “The further away we are, the less likely he is to come yell at me.”

 

“I live seven blocks away,” Gabriel calls, sprinting after Sam.

 

Sam turns, running backwards. “Awesome.”

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel's out of breath when he reaches the front door of his apartment building, letting himself and Sam in before calling down the elevator. He's spent the entire run home trying to keep up with Sam- whose legs really are very long- as well as yelling directions to him.

 

Sam's breathing fairly heavily as well, but Gabriel thinks maybe it's for a different reason. This theory is confirmed as soon as the elevator doors slide shut and Sam's stepped across to Gabriel, hands finally on his hips. Gabriel's mouth opens a little as Sam looks down at him through his bangs, and Gabriel finds that his hands are on Sam's (un-fucking- _believable_ ) forearms. They share that space for the ride up, smelling the smoke on each other's breath.

 

With what feels like an insane amount of self control, Sam pulls away as the elevator arrives at Gabriel's floor, stepping back to let the shorter man lead the way. If Gabriel's hands are shaking as he unlocks his apartment, it's because of how cold it is outside.

 

They're barely indoors when Sam steps towards Gabe, closing the door with one hand and cupping his cheek with the other. Gabriel can feel the callouses against his skin, tipping his face up to look Sam in the eye.

 

“Don't you want a drink or something?”

 

Sam grins fleetingly, leaning in so close to Gabriel that the hot air between them is all either of them can feel. Sam's hair is hanging over his face again, and there's sweat still drying on his neck.

  
“Fucking hell, Sam, do you want me to sign a consent form or something?” which is Gabriel's way of saying, come on, just have your way with me already.

 

“Maybe later,” Sam says, closing the gap with a hot, open mouthed kiss that has Gabriel sliding his tongue into Sam's mouth and trying incredibly hard to completely ignore the implications of what Sam had just said. Sam's hand slides from Gabriel's face to his hair, and Gabriel lets himself slide his hand up one of Sam's arms, then across his chest to the buttons of his plaid shirt.

 

Sam's biting Gabriel's lip, something which turns Gabe on beyond belief, and he goes a bit faster, undoing each of the buttons on Sam's shirt. Sam pulls away to tug it off, and Gabriel reaches for the light switch so he can properly see Sam shirtless.

 

Gabriel thanks God that he decided to go to the gig.

 

Sam smells of smoke and sweat, and it's kind of alluring, which, _weird_. But Sam's hands are working on Gabriel's jacket, and then on his button-down. Gabriel has that feeling of inadequacy again, but it's quashed when Sam positively growls at him.

 

“We need to move away from the door,” Gabriel says, a laugh in his voice, and Sam grins, gesturing at the sofa.

  
Gabriel pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, grabbing the condom and sachet of lube he keeps in there. Then, without taking his eyes off Sam, he undoes his belt, then his button and zipper, letting the fabric of his jeans fall as Sam tracks the movement. Gabriel pulls off his shoes, then his socks, and kicks his jeans off, falling back on the sofa and spreading his legs.

 

Sam strides towards him, taking off his own shoes before kneeling between Gabriel's legs, grabbing the condom from his hand. Gabriel props himself up on his elbows, kissing Sam as the taller man fiddles with his belt buckle, finally taking his jeans off and standing up. Sam looks away as he pulls down his boxers, and Gabriel takes in the man's form.

 

He whistles, low. “Damn, Sammy.”

 

“Don't call me that,” Sam says, and it sounds like something he says regularly, without even thinking about it. “Take 'em off.” he says, gesturing at Gabriel's red silk boxers.

 

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “Why don't you?”

  
Gabriel's surprised when Sam's hand grinds his erection through the silk, instead of just taking the offending garment off.

 

“Because I'm calling the shots here,” Sam says, rubbing Gabriel mercilessly. “Okay?”

  
“Damn right you're okay,” Gabriel says without a second thought, reaching down to pull off his underwear. Sam helps, throwing the fabric across the room and grinning down at Gabriel. “Better?” Gabe asks.

 

Sam's hands are running light patterns over Gabriel's legs, from his ankle to his knee to the top of his thigh, callouses scratching at the shorter man's sensitive skin. “Much,” he says, popping two fingers in his mouth nonchalantly. Gabriel watches as Sam sucks them, and it's fucking _pornographic_ , the way he's enjoying it.

 

Sam's other hand is on Gabriel's ass, canting his hips up, and Gabriel's beginning to lose it when a cool, spit-slick finger rests against his entrance. When he looks up, Sam's eyes are dark and he's biting his lip as he presses the digit into Gabriel.

 

Gabriel shudders, entrance fluttering against Sam's finger, but doesn't complain, even as Sam's finger goes in past the first knuckle. Sam leans down and spits on it, watches it pushing into Gabriel, opening him up. He doesn't stop until his finger is buried in Gabriel, then begins to rock it out, pressing it up on his next stroke inwards, searching for Gabriel's prostate.

 

The next few minutes are filled with agonizing pleasure, a spurt of precome dribbling from Gabriel's cock as Sam finds his prostate for the first time, two fingers deep. By the time Sam's got three fingers in him, Gabriel's incoherent, his hands on Sam's broad shoulders. The room is filled with their noises of pleasure, and Gabriel full-on whines as Sam pulls his fingers out.

 

Gabriel can't bring himself to look up as Sam rolls on the condom, tearing open the packet of lube and covering his cock in it. He just waits, feels Sam's hands tilting his hips up, and the head of Sam's cock tracing over his entrance.

 

Gabriel's legs are over Sam's shoulders now, and Sam's looking hotly at Gabriel as he breaches his tight hole. Gabriel scrabbles for grip on the fabric of the sofa, hissing and arching his back, trying to impale himself on Sam's cock. As Sam buries himself to the hilt, he tosses his head back, and damn, if that isn't one of the greatest things Gabriel's ever seen.

 

Sam pulls out almost all the way, the tug not quite something that Gabriel's used to, then presses back in, faster. Gabriel can't keep his eyes off Sam's face, twisting in the same way it was while he was playing, earlier. Sam's looking down, breathing deeply as he watches his cock push in and pull out of Gabriel.

 

When Sam brushes his prostate, Gabriel loses it, leaning up enough to tug lightly on the hair at the base of Sam's neck. Somewhat awkwardly, Sam kisses him, his hips stuttering as their tongues met. Sam's ratcheting up the pace now, his grunts becoming louder as Gabriel spreads his legs yet further, calling Sam's name as he reaches the edge.

 

One big, talented hand wraps around Gabriel's dick, and after a few quick strokes Gabriel's gone, keening loudly as he arches his back.

 

Gabriel's release triggers Sam's, and the noise the taller man is making as he comes is fucking _animalistic_ , snapping his hips once more and emptying into the condom.

 

Sam's sweat is drying on his skin, his chest heaving as he pulls out of Gabriel and bends backwards over the arm of the chair. Gabriel's stomach is covered in his own come, and he's trying to get his heart rate back to normal when he realizes just how close to sleeping he is.

 

He's not complaining when Sam suggests they shower- especially when Sam joins him in said shower. He's not complaining when Sam asks sheepishly if he could crash on Gabriel's couch- especially when Sam ends up in Gabriel's bed.

 

He's not complaining when he wakes up with Sam curled around him- especially when Sam programs his number into Gabriel's phone while he thinks Gabriel's not looking. 


End file.
